Broken Vision Read online

  He saved her the effort. He dropped a hard kiss on her mouth and surged to his feet with effortless, fluid grace. "Ten nans," he said and pointed at the bathing chamber. "Then we eat."

  Bathing she could relate to. It was almost a desperate necessity. The eating part she could skip. A nutro drink was all she needed, but somehow she didn't think that's what he had in mind.

  She rolled off the bed and sauntered into the bathing chamber. Her outward composure didn't reveal even a scrap of the self-consciousness that was screaming at her to run, run, run from the sharp gaze that dissected everything. He had seen and touched every microsent of bare flesh anyway. But last night was done with. Today was a new day. Today she had to build the barriers back stronger than before.

  There was no doubt in her mind what he intended for the day. They would attempt to tear the habitat on Pallas Four apart to locate the children. She was more convinced than ever that Morgon had them. But had he been able to transport them to a safe haven yet?

  She didn't dawdle with the tasks of bathing and dressing. There was no point to it. The great room was empty when she entered. She could hear Alerik's voice in the adjacent room. It sounded frustrated, angry but she couldn't distinguish the words. Without compunction, she headed to the partially open doorway from which the sounds issued.

  Part way across the room, her attention was caught first by the table arranged for a meal, and then by the selection of food itself.

  Blood of Cor! The man had ordered the meal associated with a couple's first sexual relations. It was archaic, barbaric. His obsession with the ancient traditions was...disturbing. So why were her feet stuck to the floor, and her bones felt as if they were dissolving in a heated rush of warmth?

  "It's just food," Alerik said in her ear. "To be savored and enjoyed. Although we do have to speed this up a little, unfortunately." He placed a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward.

  He seated her on the padded bench and settled himself beside her, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. The intimacy was exactly what she had been determined to avoid. As he began to serve food onto the single platter, she was shocked to realize she was succumbing to his purpose.

  It's not worth the effort, she justified desperately to herself. There are bigger battles. And so she obediently opened her mouth when he offered her a succulent slice of geriam fruit, and obediently followed tradition to reciprocate.

  They ate in silence for the most part, with only an occasional exchange of words. Maegan realized, at one point, how easy it would be to just give in, succumb to the siren call of a normal marriage partnership, a normal life. But what was normal? And how long would "normal" last when children were being taught to hate and destroy?

  Alerik was attentive and focused on the moment. He was the lover from the night before, husband of a new wife, seemingly in no hurry, despite his words. Yet every now and then she glimpsed something in his eyes. He was worried.

  The leisurely pace changed as soon as they left the table. He hustled her out of the habitat and onto a waiting hoverbot, which whisked them to the transporter dock.

  Ten men and women, including Commander Foster, Brown-hair and Black-hair, waited for them beside the Grogon governor's official vessel. All were armed.

  "Expecting a war?" she said, as Alerik took her arm and marched her past them without even a chance for greeting and introduction.

  He snorted. "With you in the middle of things, it's hard to know what to expect. Consider them your nursemaids for the day."

  Sliek! Maegan fingered the tracking bracelet as she dropped into the center seat to which Alerik directed her. Eleven trained warriors settled in around her. Certain they were headed for Pallas Four, she had begun formulating a plan to get to Makiee, and it had just become a whole lot harder. She had to neutralize the bracelet. That was the first priority. As long as she was being monitored, she couldn't be effective.

  The second priority was to establish the whereabouts of the children. With any luck, Morgon had left a message. She didn't know when she had become convinced beyond a doubt that he had them. She just knew he did.

  Next to her, as the transporter took to the skies, Alerik and Commander Foster discussed the third shift patrols. Nothing eventful there, as far as she could tell. She tried to focus on her Makiee strategy, but Alerik's deep voice kept distracting her.

  When she closed her eyes, it was even worse. Then the images began--vivid, fresh memories of what he'd done to her, where he'd touched her the night before, and her own uncontrolled, uninhibited reactions. She was certain she'd screamed at one point. Remaining still in her seat took an enormous effort, when her body wanted to squirm, jump, run, anything but be inactive. She only hoped the heat burning in her cheeks wasn't noticeable.

  Alerik shifted against her. His hand came down on her thigh just above her knee, a hot brand of possession. Nerve endings throughout her body sizzled. He was turned slightly away from her, still deep in conversation, and probably didn't even realize what he'd done.

  Something compelled her to look up. Seated across from them, Sharm Foster had his head tilted, listening to Alerik, but his knowing amber gaze was fixed on her. The heat in her cheeks erupted into a blaze. Five days ago, even yesterday, she would have pulled away from Alerik's hand. Now, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she lifted her chin at the commander's silent perusal and, after a nan, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and returned his full attention to Alerik.

  The topic had shifted to Pallas Seven. She listened with half an ear. She didn't like the counselor there, and had avoided contact with him as much as possible. Nothing eventful had happened there lately either. No more bodies. No more unauthorized vessel arrivals. The patrols had done their job, it seemed.

  She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes again in an effort to concentrate. It wasn't a long trip. She didn't have much time to plan. Deep male voices rose and fell around her. There came a lull in the conversation.

  "I hope you're going to give me time to meet with my leadership team at Janas Corporation," she said, her eyes still closed. "Companies don't run themselves." And she had sadly neglected hers lately. Luckily, she had a team who could and did step up in her absences without hesitation. The Mariltar contingent didn't need to know that.

  A heartbeat of silence stretched into two. She desperately wanted to open her eyes to see the body language of the two men.

  Alerik's hand tightened on her knee. "Rest assured," he responded smoothly. "Janas is an important part of our planned activities for today."

  She was instantly mistrustful of the way he said it. Her eyes flew open. The faint amusement on Commander Foster's face was in contrast to Alerik's unyielding expression. It made her uncertain and nervous.

  "Do they know we're coming? We have a new product to launch. It's critical for us. Timing is crucial. We can't waste time on trivial issues."

  The launch wasn't imminent, but they didn't need to know that either. Nor was she concerned about the sensitive technology. The law would protect it. What concerned her was that certain of her staff and other irregularities might not hold up to a question posed in the right way or tougher scrutiny.

  "Trivial? Nothing about our plans for the day is trivial. We intend to find answers to some very vexing questions." Alerik lifted his hand from her knee only to place an arm around her shoulder and draw her closer to him. "So if you would care to save us some time and enlighten us now on a few points, we may not have to interfere with your...Janas schedule."

  His arm was heavy around her shoulders, offering a comfort and protectiveness she desperately wanted to accept. It would be so easy to give in, to reveal the answers they so badly wanted. But the answers were secrets that were not hers to divulge.

  She struggled to remind herself that behind that blue, warm, compassionate gaze, lurked the ruthlessness of a Mariltar heir, trained as a warrior, trained as a politician, trained as a leader. He was bound by oath into the service
of the Coalition of Nine Nations, which was blind to the flaws of its own post-war Vision. She had given him partial answers. They hadn't made a difference.

  Nothing would make a difference except absolute proof.

  And that, she realized, as an icy cold reached out to her body's extremities, was where the real truth lay.

  * * * *

  The Taragon priests were here, on Pallas Four.

  Where exactly, his security team had yet to determine.

  Alerik gripped Maegan's arm and escorted her through the transporter door into the concourse. His gut was clenched in a hard knot of rebellion. He didn't want her here. Everything in him clamored to get her back to Pallas Five where he could keep her safe.

  Except he wasn't so sure of that either.

  Six children had vanished from his custody. He had failed to keep them safe.

  Outside the concourse, the fragrant, heated air of Pallas Four failed, for the first time, to sooth his senses. There was danger here. His gut was rarely wrong.

  He rapidly reviewed the plans he and Sharm had devised earlier that morning, after learning the Taragon vessel had abruptly departed for Pallas Four. To their knowledge, the vessel's occupants had stayed on board and had never set foot on Pallas Five. Yet here on Pallas Four, their vessel, three berths down the dock from the governor's transporter, was deserted. A scan had shown no sentients on board.

  "Eyes left," Sharm murmured at his shoulder.

  Alerik turned his head and stopped in his tracks transfixed. Followed by a small retinue, a mountain of a woman bore down on them. The speed at which she moved was alarming and potentially hazardous to the Mariltar contingent. His team appeared to think so as well, and rapidly moved into position around Maegan and him.

  He recognized Mistress Gloriana, of course, but vid screen images in no way prepared him for the reality. She was garbed in what appeared to be skin tight, brilliant orange, studded, body armor. Everything, with the exception of her skin, was orange from her helmeted head down to her combat boots.

  On his right, Drakal muttered to Sharm, "Watch it. She likes to hug."

  Just when it seemed the entire Mariltar team was in jeopardy of being bowled over, Mistress Gloriana came to an abrupt halt.

  Alerik blinked. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he would have found it hard to believe. One nan, she was moving like a bracon, the next she simply wasn't. She didn't seem to notice that two of her retinue, unable to stop as quickly, bounced off her enormous backside.

  "Governor," she cooed, "so kind of you to notify us of your official visit." Her narrowed gaze swept over his obviously armed team. The only notice she'd had was a courtesy communication as they'd approached the landing dock.

  "Maegan!"

  One nan he had a grip on Maegan's arm, the next his wife was pulled away from him and had all but disappeared into the enthusiastic embrace of the counselor of Pallas Four. She emerged from it disheveled and flushed, her hair in danger of escaping its customary sleek arrangement.

  "More sleep," Mistress Gloriana pronounced, as she thrust Maegan back at Alerik. "And more real food." She clicked her tongue and shook her body. Her focus settled on Alerik. "You're not trying hard enough."

  "Governor," she forged on, before he could respond, "as much as I appreciate your attention and presence in our humble city again, this situation disturbs me greatly."

  Beside him, Maegan stiffened. "I regret any concern we've caused you, Mistress," he said. "May I have a private word?"

  The enormous body went still. Her gaze rested thoughtfully on Drakal, who carried a blaster across his back, before it shifted to Maegan. What she saw in his wife's face, he didn't know, but when her attention returned to him, her expression was several degrees cooler.

  "If you wish." But she made no move to accommodate him. Instead, her eyes flickered at Maegan again, then narrowed, and her fleshy features took on a sly expression. "I do not want Pallas Four to become a battleground, Governor. There are Taragon priests hunting through my city and now a small force of armed Mariltar warriors here, I assume, to hunt them. What is it the priests seek, may I ask?"

  Maegan tried to wrench herself from his grasp, but this time he had a tighter grip. He didn't have to look at her to know she was angry. It had been a tactical mistake to keep the knowledge of the priests' whereabouts from her. He just hadn't been ready to divulge it. There was no longer a need for a private word with the Pallas Four counselor.

  "Children, Mistress," he ground out. "Six of them. Taragon children. Rest assured this is Coalition business. You wouldn't happen to know where Morgon Trion is, would you?" It was a question he was asking too often lately.

  "Aaahh." Mistress Gloriana expelled her breath in a long, noisy gust. She seemed to have figured something out. If anything, her expression grew craftier. She wasn't about to share.

  "Morgon is a shadow, a kiss of air, a caress of sun." She closed her eyes and stroked her hands slowly down her sides. "A blade of justice."

  Her eyes flew open. "The priests hunt in the city core. They terrorize tourists and residents alike with their presence alone. Remove them, Governor. Without bloodshed. There are no Taragon children here."

  She inclined her head and pivoted neatly. Her minions scattered. With the same breathtaking speed at which she had arrived, she forged across the wide courtyard and vanished down one of the many arched corridors.

  "Blood of Cor!" As if released from a temporary paralysis, Sharm's rare curse brought the team to life. Maegan renewed her struggles to be free of his grip.

  "What just happened here?" Alerik demanded of Sharm. He jerked on Maegan's arm. "Stop it."

  Sharm rolled his shoulders. "My opinion? Morgon Trion's a god. The Taragon children don't exist. And Pallas Four has an unhealthy number of residents willing to perjure themselves and commit treason against the Coalition." His gaze flicked to Maegan, and the corners of his mouth twitched, which didn't improve Alerik's mood at all.

  Tired of her relentless attempts to free herself, Alerik hauled Maegan in front of him and crossed his arms across her chest in an effort to subdue her. "Take care of the priests. Do what you have to. Make them engage in dialog. Anything. I want them back on their vessel. Something must make them believe the children are here. Find out--Balls of Sortor!" Pain exploded through his foot and his belly as Maegan simultaneously stamped down and drove her elbow into him. He jerked back just in time to avoid her head butt to his chin.

  Then he lost his temper. Part of him watched in utter amazement as he gripped her with one hand and delivered a hard whack to her ass with the other. Hampered though she was, she came right back at him with a lethal back kick, that could have taken him down, had he not turned just in time to block it. He managed to grab her other arm and jerked her to him.

  He was aware of his team frozen in shock around him as he stood nose-to-nose, belly-to-belly with Maegan. They were both panting, and Sagar's slieking crystals if he wasn't getting turned on as her sweet breath puffed across his face.

  "You don't fight by the rules," she said through clenched teeth.

  "No," he countered, already regretting the small public humiliation he had inflicted on her. "The rules are not the same for lovers."

  "Batriel slime. Let me go."

  "Learn to ask more politely."

  "Where are the children?" she hissed.

  "That's what we're here to determine."

  "You're going to give them back to the priests, aren't you?"

  "Not my decision."

  "Why did you bring me here? I'm not about to cooperate."

  "No, but others might. You're bait for the day, Green Eyes. And like it or not, we're going to be inseparable."

  Her nostrils flared and her lip curled. He wanted nothing so much as to bend her back over his arm and wipe the sneer off her face with a kiss that would leave her subdued and submissive. Except that even last night, despite all the kisses, she hadn't exactly been submissive.

  "Enough," he snapped, afr
aid he would lose control altogether and take her standing up against one of the arched columns. He swung her around.

  "Corenna, Drakal, with me. Let's pay Janas a visit and see what secrets can be liberated today."

  Chapter 15

  Margaine Confluence:/ Fourth Rising

  Pallas Four

  Blazing starpits, nothing had gone her way yet.

  Nothing.

  True to his word, Alerik hadn't allowed her more than two paces away from him. He might as well have joined them with a magfield.

  She was alone now in a bathing chamber, but only after she had threatened Corenna and Drakal with bodily harm when they'd wanted to stay in the room while she relieved herself. They had compromised by performing a thorough inspection for possible escape routes and now stood guard outside the only door. Alerik had gone off to meet with someone. She didn't know who.

  It worried her. And it worried her that she hadn't seen Makiee yet.

  She shook her hands under the cleansing dry shower. The metal bracelet on her wrist gleamed in the light. She had never felt so helpless. Automatically, she raised her hands to repair the damage done to her hair earlier by Mistress Gloriana's enthusiastic greeting. In the reflection given off by the holovid, she noticed a small irregularity on the surface of the bracelet. She gently pried the object loose. It was a tiny multi-purpose chip. Someone, in the course of the day, had attached it to her.

  The bathing chamber had a simple communication console. She dropped the chip into one of the receptacles. The small screen on the console flickered. A message flashed briefly before the screen went blank again.

  The priests know. Stay away from them.

  Certain there was more to the cryptic message, she pressed replay, but the screen remained blank. Frustrated, she tried again. So intent was she on her purpose, that she had no warning before a hand reached into her line of vision and a voice said, "I'll take that."

  She pivoted. Corenna, arms folded, shook his head sadly at her, while Drakal inserted the chip into his comm band.

  "Nothing," he informed Corenna. "It's a self-destruct."